Memories
by Allycat2090
Summary: <html><head></head>Based off of the Sacrifice ending; Ib gave her life so Mary and Gary could get out of the Museum. While Ib lives how Mary used to, the other two live the life Ib gave them, until they realize what's missing. Getting Ib back was going to be harder than they first thought though.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Yeah, so it's been a while. And this is what I have to show for my absence in writing. **

**Let me just say, my other stories? They're on hiatus. I have long since lost where I was going to take them, not to mention they each have little to no plot. I will probably go back and edit "What's Left" because I didn't do so when I first uploaded it, and it's an eyesore. But that'll be it.**

**Concerning "Memories," this is based off of the fake!ending Sacrifice, and heavily inspired by other stories. For similar reading, I recommend AGENT Kuma-chan's "Coda." The first chapter of "Memories" is my rendition of events, and then any chapters after will be a continuation, because I can. I know, I wish it was a real ending too.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Ib, although I do have a copy of the game. **

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><p>Ib felt like her heart would burst. She and Garry were so close to leaving, she could feel it, but she couldn't stop seeing Mary, happy and smiling, in her head. She felt a mixture of anticipation and dread as she looked at the painting, the one that instinct said would send them home. She wanted to go home, to her Mother and her Father and her life...didn't she?<p>

"What's this big mural..._Fabricated World_?" Garry murmured, looking closely at the painting. Ib knew when he had figured out what it was by how large his purple eyes suddenly got, and by how tense he had become.

"Hey, isn't that...the former gallery?" he questioned, disbelief and relief and happiness layering his words. Ib had always thought Garry easy to read for an adult, yet she also thought that it was one of the traits that she liked the most about him. Ib didn't say anything though, content to let him figure it out.

"Does that mean...if we jump into this thing, we'll go back there?! But how are we meant to jump into a painting...?" Garry questioned, looking adorably confused, and rightfully so. If it weren't for the fact that this entire fiasco had started from stepping into a painting, Ib would have thought it unbelievable as well. As if their thoughts had made it possible, and accompanied by a startled outburst from Garry, the frame surrounding the painting glowed sharply twice before disappearing altogether.

"Now might be our chance!" Garry cried, his eyes wide and elation clear in his voice. Ib hesitated, thinking again of Mary, and how the bubbly girl had wanted to leave this nightmare to see the real world. As if her thoughts had summoned her, she could hear the hurried footsteps that preceded Mary right before she appeared, stopping a foot away from where Garry and Ib were standing.

"I"M NOT LETTING YOU LEAVE!" Mary screamed, and those simple words were filled with so many emotions. Fear, anger, sadness, and a creeping madness native to Guertena's works all colored her words to paint Ib a heart-breaking picture. Not even out of breath, Mary charged towards them, her Caribbean-blue eyes trained directly onto Garry, and Ib somehow just knew how this would work out. Despite Garry's plead of "Ib, don't-", Ib still stretched out her hands to stop and save Mary all at once. The blonde painting stopped dead, betrayal making its way onto the stage of her eyes as Mary looked at Ib. Still, the blonde painting tried to dissuade her nicely.

"Please get out of my way Ib. We're leaving together, and to do that...he has to stay here." Mary stated, her tone leaving no room for argument, and the words caused Ib's heart to wrench sharply at the thought.

_Leave Garry here? Alone? In this nightmare forever? _No! Ib couldn't accept that, wouldn't accept that she had to choose between them. When Ib didn't reply nor so much as twitch, Mary's face contorted ugly-like and she shouted angrily "MOVE!" Still, Ib would not be dissuaded, unable to make the choice thrust upon her.

All at once, the fight seemed to drain right out of Mary, startling the other two people around and leaving Mary looking much older than she appeared to be. She looked heart-broken, like Ib was ruining something important by not moving away. "Y...you..." Mary couldn't even finish her sentence, the palate knife slipping to the Gallery's floor with a dull 'clank'. She looked away for a moment, and then her shoulder's shook on a sob, and Mary turned despairing eyes onto her best friend. "You'd really choose him over me, Ib?" she asked, voice high and cracking, tears pouring like streams down her painted face. The sudden actions left Garry at a loss, and tore Ib's heart to shreds.

_No, no, that's not...that's not it! That's not it at all! _Ib felt hurt fill her, and then it drained out of her in an instant as she suddenly remembered a past conversation the two girls had had when they had been separated from Garry.

_If only two could leave...what would you do? _Mary had asked her, and Ib had had no idea how loaded the question truly was. She had initially thought very little of it, and had answered without really thinking.

_I would sacrifice myself._

Now, her answer seemed so obvious and right and terrifying all at once. But Ib also found a measure of peace in it, in knowing she wouldn't have to choose between her two newest, most-important people. She loved Mary. She loved Garry. She wouldn't wish this nightmare on them. She wanted them to live and be happy. Her heart thudded in her chest rapidly, like a bird trying to escape a cage, and her heartbeat pounded in her ears like a drum. She was scared, she was sad, but she was also confident in her decision.

"Ib?" Garry questioned gently, unnerved by her stillness. He panicked for a moment that Ib would really choose Mary over him, and then dismissed that idea. After all, it had been him who had stuck by her. Ib paid him no mind as she turned her back and stepped away from the painting. She couldn't let them see just how pale and sick she looked.

"What are you doing?" Mary asked, startled by the other girl's actions. Mary had a bad feeling in her stomach, like something bad was going to happen. She'd had this feeling when Father had disappeared, and again when she'd thought Ib would leave. She had it now, and she knew something was going to happen, something she wouldn't like. Ib paid her no mind either, caught in the grip of her epiphanies. Almost like in a trance, Ib raised her right hand and cupped her rose, slowly increasing her grip until the petals showed between her fingers and the thorns on the stem poked painfully into her palm. She noted how it immediately felt like someone was squeezing her heart to death, making it hard to breathe properly.

"Stop! You'll hurt yourself!" Garry cried out, watching in horror how Ib handled her rose. He'd never seen her handle her rose so cruelly, she normally was the most cautious with her rose. It wasn't like she was squeezing his rose, yet he could still feel his chest tighten in sympathy for her.

_Good. _Ib thought cruelly, comparing this pain to the pain she had put Mary and Gary through. When she thought of it like that, the pain paled in comparison. She saw out of the corner of her eye how both Mary and Garry were reaching for her in distress and sealed her fate with one quick tug, the red rose separating from the green stem with a squelchy-snap, Ib automatically biting back a scream. Her companions covered it for her with a shocked-cry of her name, tones ones of disbelief and horror and despair at her actions.

She could hear the tears in their voices and didn't look at them, instead taking a sick pleasure in spreading the disconnected petals along the floor like they were drops of blood. She dropped the stem last as she felt a wave of fatigue come over her. She knew how final this sleep would be and wanted to welcome it, but there was one more thing to do. Ib turned around to look at Mary and Garry. Mary, with hair like gold and eyes a Caribbean blue, green contrasting nicely with her pale skin; with a smile as bright as the sun, and who had only known loneliness. And Garry, pale as the moon, with purple hair and purple eyes and ragged cloak and kind heart. Neither had moved from their positions due to the rising shock for her and Ib smiled sweetly at them, and then she reached out and _pushed_, and watched as her friends screamed her name as they disappeared to the other-side. To the Real World.

Ib felt the last of her strength leave her with the passing-on of her friends, the numbness spreading rapidly now that she no longer had to be brave and strong for anyone. Looking back down the hallway, her legs collapsed underneath her, causing her to fall harshly to her knees, bruising them with the impact. She was strangely calm as cold seemed to claw up her spine, head pounding in time with her heart. Her vision was going red as she slipped the rest of the way to the floor, the tiles cold against her cheek. Ib could feel her eyes slipping closed, and the last thing she saw was her broken life-rose, scattered along the floor of a Fabricated World.

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><p>Mary was furious, and drowning in sorrow and loss. Her best friend – no, <em>sister <em>- was gone, forever inside a world Mary could no longer go into. It made her sick to her stomach, made her want to go into the dark spiral rages she was used to plunging into in her world, but the real world – the outside world – is no place for them. Next to her stands Garry, but he might as well be fabricated for how he is now. She hears him say it himself - _"Odd. I don't recall what I was just doing..." - _and wants to scream at him for forgetting Ib.

But he calls her sister, and Mary notices her anger being pushed back, far back into her mind, behind diamond-like glass and untouchable. She can recall the feelings, can feel the anger there, but it's muted and distant, and somehow, Mary knows the separation from the feeling is part of the price paid. Despite the distance from it, the emotions still make her sick to her stomach, and she tells Garry as much, falling back onto the fake memories provided.

She asks him if they can go home, and some twisted part of her laughs wickedly when he misunderstands just what that means. To this Garry, home is someplace in the outside world, but she knows _home _will always reside with Ib. They walk away, and then Garry asks after the candy he had given Ib, and Mary finds the despair easy to call upon again. The tears are warm for the first time, and they burn paths down her cheeks in silent retribution. Garry panics, tells her "_It's okay," _and "_Try to cheer up~" _and Mary wants to hurt him like she'd wanted to do before Ib made the decision.

They meet Ib's parents on their way out, and Mary feels like puking, it hurts so bad. But Garry, forgotten, fabricated-like Garry, smiles and charms them, and takes no notice that there should've been a little 9 year old girl with them (one who isn't Mary, anyways). They part ways, and he's offering to take her to a cafe for macaroons, the same ones he'd promised Ib, and Mary's stomach rolls. She starts crying just to relieve the pressure, and Garry walks a little quicker for the exit.

He stops before they can leave, his eyes catching sight of a new-yet-familiar painting on the wall. Garry's never seen it before, yet he gets a sick, familiar feeling when he looks at it. It's of a little girl, about 9-10 years old, with long brunette hair, and she's wearing a white, long-sleeved top and a red cravat. Her hands are bound by thorned vines and clasped to her chest, and where her hands would've met in prayer, there is a beautiful red rose. There are tears in her red eyes, but the viewer of the painting can see a small smile hidden just slightly behind the rose. There are more red roses along the bottom and sides of the painting, and it's titled "Goodbye."

"Mary, come look at this," Garry calls, wanting her to see the beautiful picture despite her not feeling well. Mary turns and looks at it, and Garry is confused when he sees shocked recognition in her eyes, despite _knowing _there's no way Mary's ever seen it. She practically runs to the painting, getting as close as is allowed to it to view it, and Garry half expects it when she starts all-out sobbing, because he feels like doing-so himself and he _doesn't know why. _But he's unsure what to make of it when Mary repeats a single name over and over again, one that somehow manages to hurt him every time it's spoken.

"_Ib!"_

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><p>Ib's in hell. She's sure she is, though she feels a bit disconnected from it all. She watches from the other side of the painting blankly as Mary falls to her knees and cries in anguish, and how Gary stands just behind her, confused and worried for Mary, and how behind those emotions she can see the part of him that remembers her is in anguish too. She watches all of this with sad eyes, but the disconnection from it all is there, like she's watching from a faraway place.<p>

Ib's seen her painting. She thinks she looks quite good, portrayed as she is. But the dolls – _not bunnies, never bunnies again_ – have long since moved it to where she suspects Mary's portrait hung, in the pink room she and Gary had never gone into. The mannequins and paintings don't chase her, they don't even spare her a glance. The only thing she interacts with anymore is a single doll, dressed in pink and with long black hair. It's the same doll who led Gary into the doll room, and Ib rips all the limbs off of the doll in revenge, then leaves the doll in the doll room as a warning.

Eventually, Ib puts the doll back together, if only to have someone to speak with, and the doll is kind about the whole thing. Her thoughts drift as she watches Mary and Gary leave and the exhibit close, and Ib knows from her knowledge of the other side that the exhibits paintings will go into storage for another ten years. The concept is strange, because she's already discovered that time flows differently in Guertena's world.

The rest of the Fabricated World knows it too, because the paintings hang themselves back on their walls, the mannequins go stand in their original positions, and Ib can feel her eyes get heavier with hibernating sleep. It's a lot like how they were when she died, and she smiles at the feeling, but as her doll companion goes to its room to sleep with the others there, she knows she'll wake up again. So Ib travels through the gallery, disconnected and unharmed, and makes it to the room where her painting hangs. She looks for a long moment, fighting the siren's call as she observes herself, her painting, and then sits underneath the painting to sleep, head resting against the wall, hands clasped in her lap.

And if in her dreams, Gary doesn't remember her and Mary cries out for her in her sleep and neither can see her, Ib chalks it up as a dream.

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><p><strong>Alright. Thank you for reading. Comments are lovely!<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

There are no paintings in their house. There are a couple digital pictures of landscapes and people. But there are no paintings, no sculptures, no mannequins, and Mary has never felt more out of place in all of her life.

The house itself is a nice, medium-sized, two story house. There are four bedrooms, a kitchen, a living room, and a big backyard. It's a nice place for the two of them, since their parents are dead, and there's no more family left for them to stay with. The memories tell Mary that Garry has essentially raised her, but Mary feels all the more like a stranger. This life feels like she's playing pretend, especially with the loss of Ib still hurting.

Garry sends her off to go sleep in her room, still under the impression she's sick, and doesn't even pause on his way to the kitchen for something to drink. He comes back out of the kitchen with a Dr. Pepper and plops down onto the leather sofa in the living room, and Mary wants to hit him when he gives a tired sigh. What would he know about being tired? He couldn't even remember the gallery! _He couldn't even remember Ib! _

Mary can feel the rage coming, and then it's pulled away again, the glass wall put back in its place. There's no further point in staying in the room, especially as Garry eyes her half-concerned over his arm on the back of the sofa, so Mary climbs the stairs. She hears Garry put the news on the TV as she goes, and knows that she has time to explore her new home.

The upper floor consists of a hallway with 2 doors on either side, the walls beige with brown wood floors. The first door on her left is an office. The walls are covered with bookshelves, with many books that Mary would love to read. There's a plant in the corner to her left, its leaves as green as the dress she wears. There's a circular, purple, egg-looking chair in the corner to her right, the door stopping centimeters from the edge of it. On the chair are little books that the memories tell Mary she had been reading, and it's enough for her to spurn them in order to resolve her curiosity. There's a desk near the window-wall across from the door, made of solid, dark wood. Behind it is a leather computer chair that Mary knows she would love to spin around in. The desk has a laptop on it, a lamp, a picture put face down, and papers, so many papers. The walls are the same beige as the hallways, but the floor is made of fluffy white carpet.

Mary crossed the room silently to peak at the picture on the desk and stood still in shock. In the picture is a family – their family – and they looked happy. There's a man and woman in the picture at the back. The man looks like Garry, with purple hair and purple eyes, and he smiles brightly at the camera, with one hand on Garry's shoulder and the other around the woman. But the woman, the woman reminds Mary of Ib. Her hair is a light blonde, but it's in the style Ib had favored. Her eyes are green, but they have that look in them that Ib had been developing. And she smiles just as brightly as Ib did, with one hand on her husbands' cheek, the other wrapped around Mary. And they all look _so happy._ Mary almost throws the picture in her haste to get away from it, it making a soft 'thunk' sound as it landed back on the desk, face down. Her eyes are wide with shock and tearful with pain, but she holds it all back. The memories tell her how Garry hates having Mary in his office, and she heads the warning by leaving, the door latching firmly behind her.

The room across from his office is empty, with white walls and dark wooded floors. There's an empty closet to the right, another door on the left to a bathroom, and the wall across has a single, open-bay window, with translucent curtains to frame the dark wood. Mary takes it in, and somehow knows that had she been able, Ib would have loved this room. She leaves quickly but quietly from the silence that enshrouds the room.

Further down the hall and next to the office is Garry's room. It's slightly messy, with clothes on the floor and paper balls scattered about. The bed is unmade, with lilac pillows and sheets, and a dark purple blanket askew on the bed. There's another little TV across from the bed, and a rack of movies next to it. On the walls are what Mary's used to seeing, sketches of people and plants and things, and even an unfinished outline of Mary. There are clothes in the closet and the bathroom is a simple sink, toilet, shower-tub, but it's tidy with Garry's things. Mary takes a look at the nightstands on either side of Garry's bed, where lamps rest, one with an alarm clock, and then shuts the door. With a feeling of dread, Mary turns to the door that houses her room.

It's much like how Mary knew it would be. The walls are a light green, the floor a wooded brown. The bed is small, enough to fit her in it, with dark green pillows and light green plaid sheets and a deep blue blanket. There are stuffed animals scattered across the floor and drawings on the walls and two windows that don't open on the wall across from the door. There's a brown bag that holds Mary's school things at the end of the bed and a closet to her right. The bathroom is across from the bed, and there's a small, tightly packed bookshelf next to the open door. And on her bed is a doll. Not just a doll, but _her _doll, one of the kind little dolls she was around at the gallery, and she is equal parts terrified and relieved.

Approaching like one would a dangerous animal, Mary slipped onto her bed, and then reached out to pick up the doll, taking in the pink dress and short black hair and glinting red eyes. Mary looks at the doll and then leans in, like she's sharing a secret.

"Can you hear me? Won't you talk to me?" she whispers, watching like a hawk how the doll doesn't move. Disappointment wells up like bile when all she gets in return is silence. Her last connection to Ib, and the doll wouldn't even respond to her anymore. Mary almost rips the doll up, and then changes her mind and locks it inside a box at the back of her closet instead, letting out some of her anger. It doesn't do more than release the pressure in her chest and open the way for tears.

Noticing how dark the sky was getting, Mary curled up onto her bed with little hic-cupping sobs, missing the movements of the gallery and hating the silence. Most of all though, she wants to hate Ib, so badly it hurts, but she knows she never can. She loved Ib, not like a friend or a sister, but like the mother Mary had never had, but had always wished for along with a friend. She supposed that made Garry her father – _because it's always Ib and Garry, even when it isn't_ - but the thoughts were becoming jumbled in her head, and her eyes were getting heavier and harder to open.

Mary whimpers for Ib as she drifts off, and never feels the hand smoothing her hair away from her face, nor the blanket being pulled over her. And she never hears the door latching behind someone as they left, a soft, hummed lullaby filling the room in the persons wake.

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><p>Garry crumpled his soda can with an aggravated sigh and threw it into the trash can. He couldn't believe how Mary had acted at the gallery! All week she had been bugging him to go see it, and then she went and acted like someone had died. And the reaction she'd had to that one painting, <em>Goodbye, <em>had been bewildering. Garry hadn't known what to do as his little sister sobbed her heart out over a painting, and he still didn't know what to make of Mary calling for someone named 'Ib'. Who was that? Mary had no friends, none that Garry knew of, and he definitely didn't know anyone named Ib.

He also didn't know why his chest hurt every time he thought the name Ib. Every thought of it brought a resounding pain to his heart, and he had the urge to curl into a ball and cry. That couldn't have been normal, he was positive it wasn't. All he'd done that week had been to work and take Mary to the gallery, there was no reason for this pain!

Frustrated at his mind going in circles, Garry turned his mind from the hurt and got ready to sleep, shutting the TV off with an aggravated click. He shuffled up the stairs tiredly, rubbing his chest as he walked from the ache in it. He stopped in front of his office with a speculative look, and then quietly walked in to take in the evening view from the window. The view outside of his office consisted of their backyard, and then the city beyond. It was spectacular in the night, with glowing lights in the far-off horizon and looming buildings, the sounds of the city far off and muted in the wake of the silence surrounding his home.

Gary's eyes fell to his backyard, like metal to a magnet, and roved restlessly over the greenery. The grass was a healthy green, the swing-set built for Mary silent and stagnant save for when the wind rustled through, and her wooden playground of a castle remained looming alone. But his eyes moved from these fixtures to the hedges lining his fence, the flowers blooming on them in spectacular shades of blue and white and purple and yellow and _red-_

His eyes stayed put on the red rose bush blooming alone in the middle of the wall of bushes, and felt the stinging return to his eyes with a vengeance, and _he didn't even know why_. He had looked at these flowers numerous times, and he had never reacted like this. He had run his fingers over the soft petals and almost lovingly given them water, and he had never had this strong urge to fall to his knees and sob like a newborn babe. It was like being back at the gallery, where he had felt like doing what Mary had been and sobbing for all he was worth. But it made no sense!

Ruthlessly, he pulled his eyes away from the bush and scrubbed them roughly with a long sleeve, and then turned and walked out of his office, the door closing with a decisive click. He strode down the hall and stopped in front of Mary's door, spell-bound by the soft, unfamiliar humming he heard coming from it. Anxiously, he poked his head in and looked around. There was no one save Mary in there, and she was curled up on the bed with the occasional sniffle. But there was no one humming, the room completely silent. Gary smiled thinly at his little sister and backed out of the room, deaf to when the humming started again when the door shut.

"I must be more tired than I thought, to hallucinate humming in silence," he told himself, back to Mary's door as he ran his fingers through his hair roughly. Leaving them to fall as they willed, he entered his room and shut the door softly behind him, and then walked to take a quick shower before bed. While the water warmed up, he undressed slowly, and then paused at his appearance. Where his skin had been unblemished when they had left that morning, he had bruises spotted and dotted all on his person, and a long line of bruises lined one side of his body, as if he had fallen a great distance and landed on that side. There was also a dark bruise stationed right over his heart, shaped almost like a small rose, and Gary blew out a hurt breath when he ran a finger over it softly.

"Must have knocked into a few people really hard, to have obtained these," He murmured, shaking his head in exasperation while he stepped into the shower. The water was warm and felt good on his skin, but it didn't evade the call for sleep and left him drowsy as he shuffled through washing and then getting out. Dressing in some purple sleep-pants, he shivered as the wet hair hit his neck and began to towel-dry his hair. With that done, and his hair fairly dry, he flopped onto his bed with a hissed sigh and turned the light out, the room encasing itself in darkness. He turned onto his unbruised side and closed his eyes, ignoring the irrational urge to fish out his nightlight when the darkness began to look menacing to him. He squeezed his eyes shut tight when he thought he heard giggling, and burrowed his head under his pillow when he thought he felt fingers run through his hair.

Gary was almost asleep when he whispered a name he was sure he didn't know, but felt familiar on his lips and brought a round of heartache battled back by his need for sleep. He was knocked out cold when the humming from Mary's room seemed to grow in volume and size, filling the empty corners of house and heart as the two occupants slept on, ignorant but safe.

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><p>Ib hummed while her hands brushed through Gary's hair, her head filled with questions and thoughts, but a smile never left her lips. She wondered over their home for a little bit, mind straying again and again to the empty room next to Mary's room. Then she puzzled over why Mary couldn't seem to see or hear her, despite Ib having answered her when she had questioned her doll. Maybe it just wasn't time yet. Or maybe this was Ib's own form of hell while she slept, to watch the people who meant the most to her live their lives while she slept on in the Fabricated World.<p>

She also wondered over Gary having heard her humming despite not being able to see her, much less remember her. She wondered what that meant for them in the future. Ib also pondered over if Mary had had this happen to her as well, and then shook her head from the thought. No, someone as ignorant of their world as Mary was – had been, anyways – couldn't possibly have had this ability. So she wondered why the Gallery – because it was alive, and much more malevolent than the creations inside of it – would allow her to do this. To desensitize her? Make her go mad with loneliness? Ib didn't know. But she was here now, even if Gary didn't know her, or Mary see her. That was okay, because Ib would be there to watch them live, and that's all that had to matter.

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><p><strong>So, there's the second chapter. Thank you for reading. Comments are lovely!<strong>


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